Lost Hearts
by Rival Argentica
Summary: Dan and Natalie are lost. Metaphorically and literally.
1. Lost Hearts: Part I

**Ahoy there, Natanatics, welcome aboard on my first Natan! xD This would consist of two parts. Originally I just wanted it to be a 3000- to 4000-word one-shot, but after I sat in front of my laptop, typed the words, drank coffee, typed some more, downed my second cup of coffee, and decided to give it a shufti to take a five-minute break, I was like spraying my fifth cup of coffee all over the house because I realized that I already have 14 LONG pages and I'm not even halfway through it. So after much debating, I decided to divide this particular story into two, thus giving birth to my first T39C two-shot.**

 **I'm convinced that the lengths of my one-shots are so drool-worthy, I have to control the words from coming out. I might have to watch my word count…next time…**

 **Or not. Freestyle writing is so much fun. Bashers, hush. ('Bashers' is the right term for it, right?)**

 **[Insert disclaimer here.]**

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Lost Hearts  
Part One

* * *

As her petite, little Jimmy-Choo-heeled feet made tousling noises when she grumpily trudged through the sticks and the twigs and the crisp, pesky mass of autumn leaves that shambolically littered the scruffy forest grounds, she voiced out the one blasted thing that she'd been trying to drill into his brainless skull for _hours_ now.

"Face it, _Daniel_ , we're _lost_."

Dan rolled his eyes as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard on his entire life.

"Re- _laaax_ ," he assured with a carefree smile, most probably for the thirty-ninth time, with an overplayed tone of gleefulness as he looked at her over his shoulder. "You don't need to worry about anything. I know exactly where we're going."

She gritted her teeth. He was positively confident at whatever it was he thought he was doing with such an air of professionalism that Natalie had to hold her trembling fists so _tightly_ to herself to prevent them from meeting the back of his tick-ridden head.

It annoyed her that he was taking this more of as a leisurely stroll like it was a normal day in the park when Natalie practically considered this as _hell_. Well, look at him! He was being so calm, hands in his pockets, whistling a Justin Bieber tune as he walked just as coolly, acting like they weren't even lost at all! One thing was for certain— _he lost it_. Why didn't Dan always take serious matters _seriously?_ Was Natalie the only one worried sick about their lost situation? Or, for that matter, was she the only one with a _brain?_ Getting stuck in the middle of nowhere with Pain-iel Ar-thorn Cahill wasn't really her cup of tea.

So, she did her best to keep her shaking fists still. Even though smacking him right then and there was so bloodytempting.

Natalie was thinking this when her eyes suddenly caught sight of a small cluster of growing, poisonous mushrooms, like a little bundle of umbrellas with green and yellow colours so bright that they almost looked neon. At first sight she was able to identify them as poisonous, (of course, as she belonged to the elite branch of the Lucians, master of poisons,) but aside from that, she also knew that they've passed by that _very_ cluster of mushrooms…

…three times already.

The heavy reality sank even deeper into the pits of her stomach.

"Daniel, I'm warning you," Natalie threatened ominously, though there was a tangible, nervous waver in her voice even as she tried to sound a little bit braver than how she actually felt. Her eyes darted nervously all around the forest, the mere sound of the nearby rushing of the river making her a little queasy. "I'm g-going to shove those mushrooms down your throat if you don't get me home _now_."

But he ignored the threat with a casual eye-roll. Being with her for, like, four hours now in this bloody forest, he had grown quite immune to these death threats and was unaffected by the most recent one. Because, so far, out of all the million threats Natalie had threatened him with in the last few hours, she thankfully hadn't actually done any of it (except for when she slapped him on the cheek for reals—still hurts.)

As he was walking, though, he saw something on the ground that suddenly got him so hysterically excited. He looked at Natalie with such joy in his eyes that she immediately grew so irritated of.

"Oh, look, footprints!" he declared, bending down onto his knees to peer excitedly on the four pairs of footprints stamped lightly onto the leafy forest floor. He pointed to the said footprints, absolutely thrilled to find out that there were some people out there that they could go to and ask for some help on how to go back home.

"Let's follow 'em!" he continued. "Maybe they'll lead us to actual humans! I'm sick of talking with a snake."

Natalie couldn't help but share with his enthusiasm. It _would_ be nice to have someone else to talk to other than a thorn. She curiously bent over beside him to examine the footprints, and—

"They're _our_ footprints, you _moron_ , we've been walking around in circles for hours now!" She all but slapped her palm onto her forehead when she recognized the marks—two pairs from Nike shoes, and two pairs from Jimmy Choo shoes, meaning they'd walked through this path two times already, and this was the third. "We still haven't found home. It's starting to grow dark!"

She frantically pointed to the red-orange sun whose light slowly began to get devoured by the black of night. The auburn rays of light shyly peered through the gaps in the leaves of the broadly branched acacia trees from overhead, and the shadows were getting definitely longer. Not to mention the annoying sound made by the hidden bands of crickets. Natalie almost jumped from her skin in terror when an owl brusquely sped past her the speed of light.

"My navigating skills are awesome," Dan assured her as he confidently pointed a hand to his chest rather proudly. "Trust me," he repeated, as if trying to assure himself this time. "We'd survive."

Natalie didn't want to admit it, but she believed him. Every word of it. She quietly nodded to herself with wavering conviction, forcing herself to believe that she wasn't lost. No, she absolutely wasn't. Although her companion was kind of a cretin, he still knew (or proclaimed he knew) the way back to the Cahill Manor. She'd be getting home soon, in the warm quilts in one of the rooms of Grace's fancy mansion, with her older brother there to keep her safe and sound from any wild, nocturnal animal that might slaughter her in her sleep *cough*Daniel*cough. The idea of getting lost in this forest _without_ a real, live, actual human being as a companion would be something so tedious for her.

And, ahem, Daniel was more of like an Unidentified Annoying Object.

But she told herself that she would have to endure him in this one. It was because he was so sure of himself, or at least looked like it. He'd been bragging to her for _hours_ that he knew _just_ the way out of this hole that he had dug for themselves, and it was hard not to turn to the positive side even if all the negatives were swirling around. Natalie had only been following him uncertainly from behind all along, even though she didn't trust his 'awesome navigating skills'—because, well, it's not like she had any other choice. Parting ways with him, when, she, herself, didn't know a way out of this forest, would not be considered very smart. That meant she had to tolerate his stupidity for _just_ a little bit more, until they got home.

If they got home.

"Oh, look, nice bush," Dan randomly pointed out, hands casually put behind his head as he walked forward. Natalie was getting frustrated at this kind of carefree attitude, but decided to take this situation with professional restrain. _Calm_ , she told herself. Just be bloody _calm_.

"This," she hissed, "is the third time we're passing by _that very bush_."

Dan's every muscle froze after hearing that. A few moments of silence passed.

Then he _finally_ gave in.

He let out an exhausted sigh as his hands fall tiredly onto his sides, arms dangling like dead earthworms from his suddenly slumped shoulder, all that cool façade evaporating away like a liquid mask.

"Alrightalrightalright, I admit, Nat, we're lost."

Professional restrain turned to animalistic rage.

" _What?!"_

Natalie knew she shouldn't be so surprised that he lacked his so-called 'awesome navigating skills' despite him having rather impressive photographic memory (not that she would ever say that aloud.) But, even so, she couldn't help wanting to tear his head off for lying to her that he knew ' _exactly'_ where they were going. Without consciously realizing it, she had _actually_ put her trust onto this blockheaded mutt, and the aforementioned fact merely frustrated her even more. She hated that he just _burned_ that trust, no matter how little, like a giant bonfire against a plain piece of paper.

" _I hate you!_ " she finally blurted, almost on the verge of tears. "I'm _lost_ in the middle of _nowhere_ with _you_ , and, even _worse_ ,"—she held out her dainty set of long, delicate fingers out to him—" _my nails have been broken!_ "

Dan visibly perked up. Because, heck, (please pardon the language,) Dan couldn't even think of one single thing worse than this spoiled, bratty little witch. He thought all his life that the feeling was mutual, so he was a little surprised to know that she was thinking that her nails were even worse than him.

"Really?"

"No, no," Natalie quickly covered up her words with a furious shake of her head, reddening out of anger. "Being with _you_ is even _worse!_ "

"Gee, thanks."

"And look at my nails!" she rambled on, squawking at full volume as if the world was about to end. "The manicure—oh my word the _MANICURE_ —it's starting to chip off! I really _must_ go home to make a redo _now_! AND IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M STILL OUTSIDE HERE IN THIS _BLOODY FOREST!_ "

The piercing shriek grilled his ears so hard that Dan visibly flinched.

"If you don't stop whining about your freaking _nails_ , I'm warning you—you'd find yourself buried alive around in here any second now."

"I wouldn't worry about that," grumbled an annoyed Natalie, voice now emptied of volume as she let her annoyed foot grudgingly kick at an annoying rock that annoyingly stood in her annoying way. "You don't even have the guts to hurt a fly."

Now, Dan laughed at _that_. "Oh, I wouldn't?" he taunted, all but spitting those little words out. "We kicked you Cobras' butts in the Clue hunt, in case you forgot."

—and when the atmosphere suddenly froze to ice, he immediately regretted what he just said. Natalie was as stiff as a rock.

Dan knew he'd satisfactorily hit a nerve. For a second, he almost felt sorry for her.

But not _too_ sorry, of course.

Eventually, though, Natalie got over it. She stomped on ahead of him, purposefully colliding against him with her shoulder so that he released an offended 'Hey!', her hands clenched tightly by her sides, and her posture _definitely_ resembling that of a walking statue. If there ever was one, anyway, she was certainly the first.

"Would you _please_ just _shut up!_ " she shouted, right when she was already at quite a distance, so that her voice took upon an echo to give each syllable an extra emphasis.

Dan decided that her suggestion was probably not a bad idea. Natalie was scary when she got seriously riled up.

"Alright, shutting up."

"Seven billion," she continued, raging to herself like mad. "Seven billion bloody people in this bloody world. The odds are seven billion _blasted_ people to one. Why do I have to be stuck with _you?_ "

Dan eventually caught up with her, but he was having an extremely hard time trying to keep up with her angry pace. He decided to be a bit friendlier in trying to talk to her this time, without any reference to the past or whatnot—he didn't know why, but he just noticed that those kinds of things were what seemed to aggravate these touchy Cobras the most, just like the touchy Cobras they were. Even Amy seemed to notice that kind of rather 'touchy' attitude whenever she talked to Ian with references to the past.

So he silently promised to himself that, until they got out of this forest, he'd at least try to be on friendlier terms with her. Well, yes, she was a Kabra. And yes, she was a Cobra. But other than that, he could say that he and Natalie couldn't be any more similar. They were both orphans, and the only person they can trust their entire life with was their older siblings—the least they could do as distant cousins in similar situations was try to get along. He wouldn't want Natalie to just go stomping away and leaving him on his own right now, because they had to get out of this mess together.

It was a whether-they-liked-it-or-not kind of situation.

" _Excuse me!_ " he said, panting, adding a tinge of an offended tone into his voice, in continuation to their previous conversation. "May I just remind you that Amy thinks that she is, like, the luckiest girl alive because she has an extremely awesome ninja lord for a brother, a.k.a., me."

Natalie sharply turned around and gave him one incredulous look, from the very tip of a dirty toe untouched for hundred centuries to the very top of a standing strand of blond hair that stood up straight among its messy brothers that probably hadn't even met the thing called 'comb'.

" _You?_ " she derided him, and not with a very nice tone. "From what I know, having a brother who once hid his sister's diary in his underwear drawer is any girl's worst nightmare."

"H-Hey!" Dan spluttered, a little embarrassed, his face gathering all the reds in the world it was a wonder how it even fit. Man, that happened like five years ago—he thought Amy forgot about it already. "I told Amy not to tell anyone that!"

"How bizarre." Natalie almost chuckled at his flustered reaction, which was a rarity. "I never thought you had the capacity, but you're actually _embarrassed_?"

"No, I'm _Dan_. Why do you guys keep forgetting my real name?"

Natalie rolled her eyes at this, starting to walk away, but the male Madrigal kept on talking, following at her heels.

"And, FYI, deep inside, Amy _loves_ me! Unlike you—Ian probably thinks you're the worst natty gnat who ever lived. Especially since you can't do anything in your life except care about your stupid, broken little nails." He gave her a sideways glance, already forgetting all about the promise he made to himself to try to be on friendlier terms with this Cobratic brat. Bantering with her was more fun. "So sorry for stepping on your itty-bitty ego the size of an entire planet."

"You insolent simian," Natalie threatened, her hand already finding the handle of the dart gun hidden in her purse. "Are you asking to die?"

"Why do you ask, O asking one?"

"Because I'd be very glad to attend to your funeral."

"What makes you so sure that an obnoxious Cobra like _you_ would even be invited in the first place?"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way, _Daniel!_ "

Dan palmed his face in exasperated frustration. "Ugh, why DO you Brits _like_ calling me that?" Because, seriously. That's an unanswered issue.

Natalie waved her fingers at the air over her nose to drive the horrid scent away. "Never stand that close to me where I can smell your breath."

"What th— _hey!_ " he called out to her as she just calmly walked forward, not even a tinge of regret onto her face for saying those insulting words. Shocked, and more so seriously offended this time, even Dan knew that _that_ was something rude to say (even if his undomesticated hygiene _was_ an actual truth).

"Take that back! Now that's a little uncalled for!"

Natalie gritted her teeth, trying to keep her calm as she closed her eyes and drew in a calming breath. "I have an idea," she seethed out through a forced smile. "Why don't we play…a game?"

Dan paused for a while before her words sank in. One of his fists rocketed skywards in a 'Yesss! Something fuunn!' Because, _finally_ , he thought, _Cobra's not being so much of a sourpuss_.

"Awwwwesssoome! I didn't know you played games!" He cracked his knuckles as if thinking that the game Natalie had in mind was the wrestle-to-the-DEATH kind of game that the brute Eisenhower Do—er, Holt, was so incredibly fond of. "Bring it on! I'll make sure to cream you."

"It's called Whoever Has a Shut Mouth the Longest Would Win."

Dan wilted. "You're no fun."

"It's not like I'm really having any."

"Not my fault your brain's too narrow to contain any sense of humour."

Natalie was getting more and more infuriated with each and every single painful little word that escaped this imbecilic peasant's filthy little mouth. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, no idea of where to drive their feet to, and Dan was thinking about _bloody senses of humour?_

"You know," she couldn't help hissing, "This forest isn't the only thing that's dense."

"Meaning what?" he easily fired with a grin. "There's something wrong with _you?_ "

She lost it. Finally. "I WAS TALKING ABOUT _YOU_ , YOU STUPID, AMERICAN _GIT!_ "

"I think my left eardrum just broke."

" _ARGH!"_ Natalie was positively livid now—but not _that_ kind of positive, mind you, as she towered over him menacingly, screaming like there was no tomorrow. Dan thought that he all but shrunk the size of a helpless ant against a stark raving mad ogress with her teeth protruding out like angry blood-stained fangs as she yelled out, "OH, I COULD JUST _SLAP_ YOU!"

Dan didn't know why, but he didn't even feel threatened by that. Back when they were still trying to get a grab for their necks in the Clue Hunt, yes, he probably would have been frightened, scrambling for the safety of being under the bed. But things had changed. Now, though, he thought that this most recent threat was so meaningless he actually chuckled. He just continued strolling forward after giving her a sideways 'Pfft', completely unperturbed.

"Slap me? Oh ho ho, hold it right there," he answered. "You don't even have the guts to do _that_."

Natalie stared after him in disbelief. How _dare_ this _vixen_ even _think_ that she, Natalie Hollingsworth-Kabra of the Lucian Branch, was actually _incapable_ of doing something she was on the desperate verge of doing? Was he challenging her or…or _testing_ her or something?

" _Oh, I wouldn't?!"_

"Nope." Dan had stopped walking, hands casually put inside the pockets of his baggy shorts, a calm smile spreading over his face. He didn't know _why_ he was even smiling, but that didn't matter. Fact was, he was absolutely certain that Natalie Kabra wasn't _that_ bad after all, now that her nasty excuse of a mother wasn't around anymore to boss her children around like they were mutated robots. (He didn't know if mutated robots even made sense, but whatever.) The important thing was, Natalie had positively changed—and, this time, it was _that_ kind of positive. She was only taken care of by a pair of bad guys' hands, but truth was, she was born with a kind heart—and Dan was sure that it would show overtime once she gets used to the fact that her mother was now rotting in jail, thank goodness. Now, it was rare of Dan to think of things leaking of such puke-able profound sappiness, but, for the moment, as he thought of Natalie, he couldn't help letting his thoughts wander.

Then, he turned to face her, jade green eyes meeting impatient amber ones, his expression completely certain, completely calm. He knew, he _believed_ , that she wouldn't ever be able to hurt anyone, never. (He _might_ be an exception at the way he liked to cross her all the time, though, but still.) He was absolutely positive about that being a concrete truth, so he simply voiced it out, slapping cement right onto his own words with conviction and finality—

"You wouldn't."

Natalie seemed to hear the hidden message behind the sincerity of his voice. Unbeknownst to herself, her entire body lost the raving tension she had just had mere moments ago, and her eyes held an expression of discernible affection. It was as if the words themselves had caused an unknown emotion stir up from within and spread throughout her entire body to petrify her in its flourishing sense of warmth.

Her hand was still in the air, though, ready to slap him just as she had declared she would. It was so _tempting_ , to just slap him, just like that, so _satisfyingly_ hard, but now that Dan had said those words, conflicting, second thoughts about her capabilities to really hurt someone else had risen and kept her hand frozen right in mid-air. _Can I hurt him? Can I really do something like that? Would I really have the guts to do it?_ Dan cocked an eyebrow at her show of hesitancy, as if even _daring_ her to slap him, and Natalie wanted to do just that, but something…something else was stopping her.

She couldn't.

Releasing a shuddering breath, she withdrew her hand back to herself, feeling like a complete, utter failure in doing so.

' _What a useless child.'_

It was such a ridiculous, laughable thing, to actually believe that non-existent voice that always seemed to whisper to her like _she,_ that woman, was still beside her, and not in the jail where everyone else said she belonged. True, she wasn't here anymore to scold her, to force her, to order her around and do as she pleased, but still, _still_ , Natalie heard _her_ voice in the very back of her mind, dwelling over there to haunt her by day and night. She was just like a living nightmare, reminding Natalie that for every time she failed to live out their 'Lucian values' and 'Kabra attitudes', she _was_ a failure.

It was Isabel.

She clenched her hands into fists, then let them fall heavily by her sides.

"…let's go."

Natalie said this quietly, and Dan dared not to say anything after that. He merely nodded and followed suit, to wherever it was they were unknowingly heading to.

Now, with the constant bickering gone and nothing else to distract the thoughts of their minds, the reality of their situation that they were so utterly lost started to actually dawn upon them—although, if you wanted to get technical about it, the sky itself was very, very far from dawn. In fact, the night had settled, the moon now high up in the sky, a full, white mirror of lunar silver on the star-studded sky, their respective rays of light peeking through the canopy of leaves. Nocturnal noises had come to life, the variety of crickets, the flurry of insects, and the distant hooting of the owls filling up the hollow silence. The two of them trudged forwards as they quietly followed the edge of the cliff, where a dynamic river streamed actively from down below, its flowing waters rushing and filling the silence with life. The leaves and broken twigs were trampled upon under the marching of their feet as they kept on walking under the cloak of the pitch black darkness.

The wind blew, and that brought the cold upon the two of them. Dan shuddered as his hands instinctively flew up to his arms to rub them with warmth—oh, crapoodles, he regretted not bringing his jacket, please pardon the language. He saw Natalie do the same.

"Cold weather, huh?" he said, in an attempt to spark up another conversation. It was getting eerily quiet, and he could use some small talk over here. At least to forget the fact that they were lost in the middle of nowhere (yeahyeahyeah they were lost because of him but whatever)—because, hey, it's not healthy to dwell over the negative side of things. Natalie seemed to have a habit of doing just that, and he felt sort of the responsible one here to, you know, drift her mind away from those negative thoughts and let her face the sunshine.

Okay, okay, alright— _moon_ shine.

But Natalie didn't sound like herself when she answered. "Y-yes, yes," she spluttered, "c-cold weather."

It was an automatic response for Dan to arch an eyebrow. He didn't know what the cause of the stutter was, because for all he knew, he _never_ heard Natalie Kabra stutter—but maybe it was because of the cold wind?

Dan let himself observe her for another minute, as if trying to search her for answers. And—and—

There.

He noticed it.

And there. There it was again.

And again.

 _Oh._

"Hey, Nat…" he started, uncomfortably, and he had stopped walking, hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

Although she was perfectly aware that Dan had stopped walking, Natalie kept on, letting some of her irritability seep right into her tone. "What?"

 _Now, how to say this?_ Dan was completely clueless of how to deal with these kinds of situations, but he took the plunge, anyway.

"Uh…Natalie?" he tried again, with more conviction this time. He pointed at her foot. Her left foot.

"You're…" He gulped. "You're limping."

" _So?"_ she snapped. Her bitterness was evident, and, even Dan, who thought that he was perfectly immune to whatever snappish response he received from the bitterest of Lucians, flinched at the snappish tone. Natalie didn't even stop walking—she was afraid to turn around and show him the pained expression etched right onto her face in very vibrant colours—she was absolutely determined _not_ and _never_ to admit to him her weakness. "M-Mind your own business, you _idiot_."

"Did I just say something wrong?" Dan concernedly said. He walked forward to her, reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, saying, "Are you alri—"

" _I said I'm alright!"_

Dan reeled back at the words for a second, before his expression turned into anger. "Well, so _sorry_ for being concerned, but your arthritis is—"

Natalie wheeled around, turning on the heel of her left foot to face him, to shout, to scream, to yell at him in all her vehemence—

" _I DO NOT HAVE ARTHRITIS!"_

—but her left foot wasn't as strong as it had been before. In its weakened state, it gave another painful jolt, causing her to lose support for her balance and fall, her one Jimmy Choo shoe slipping from her left foot and falling down from the edge of the cliff and into the river. There was the ominous sound of rocks and soil falling off from the cliff and landing straight onto the sharp rocks that seemed to eagerly wait for them from down below. She was shouting, she was falling, because she would have to suffer the same fate if—if—

"Hey, watch it!"

—if Dan hadn't quickly grabbed onto her flailing hand.

Frightened, Natalie clasped onto her life saver's hands and trampled down onto her pride. She had closed her eyes so tightly that the many wrinkles forming at the areas around her eyes could easily become permanent ones. She was screaming, the sound shrill and absolutely air-shattering, resonating throughout the forest as she unconsciously buried herself into Dan's chest, clutching his shirt with all the valour that her knuckles possessed, so hard that she thought she might just rip it off. But she didn't care.

" _DON'T LET ME FALL, DON'T LET ME FALL, OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE_ _ **PLEASE**_ _DON'T LET ME FALL, I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"_

All she cared about was the screaming of those very words, over and over again, as if they were her lifeline for her now-endangered life—she didn't even _want_ to open her eyes and see herself get splattered all over the sharp rocks from down below, and even though she _did_ expect the pain to crash against her body once she hit the rocks any second now, she wanted to have no visual (bloody) memory of it. She _didn't_ want to die, she didn't _want_ to die, and with every chant that echoed inside of her skull like a loud, booming gong, her hands clenched even tighter onto his shirt, head buried deeper into his chest, because, _no_ , she _didn't_ want to d—

"Uh, Natalie?" Dan awkwardly said. He suddenly looked like he didn't know what to do with himself, what with the Cobratic girl clutching him like a leech. "Get off of me now."

Natalie's eyes snapped open as she realized what she had just been doing, and realized that it was just her panicking. She frantically scrambled out of him, roughly pushing him away from her as if she was suddenly disgusted of the thing she had just been clutching like totally.

"Get away from me, you filthy _peasant!_ " she said as she clambered away from him, turning her back to him just as heatedly, which was more of as an effort to hide the embarrassment from her face. She tried to distract herself by dusting off dust from her precious Prada dress, but then all she could hear was the lapping of her fallen left shoe from down the river where its laces had caught between the rocks so the constant streaming and rushing of the river didn't wash it away. It kept reminding her that she could very well have ended in _that_ shoe's situation right now, dead and unreachable, had it not for the heroic efforts of Dan.

Daniel Arthur Cahill.

 _UGH_.

She didn't like the feeling of owing somebody something, and she now undoubtedly owed Dan with her life. Of all bloody _people_ she could be indebted with, why did it have to be _him?_ Ugh, ugh, a thousand _UGHs_! It frustrated her to no end that her life seemed to actually _like_ playing with her this way.

"Soooooo…" started Dan, a little uncertain of how to point it out to her. It had been an unwritten rule for their Kabra cousins _never_ to mention anything about Isabel and what she did back in the Gauntlet. The wounds were far too painful that they could easily just be opened at the slightest touch of the blades of words. Ian would probably kill him if Dan even _dared_ remind Natalie of the tragedy of her left foot, where her very mother had shot it so carelessly with a gun. Everyone else was practically forbidden in saying it aloud, never—punishment was murder, courtesy of Ian Kabra.

But Dan said it aloud, anyway.

"Your left foot." He pointed at one shoeless foot. "You can't walk."

"I c-can!" Natalie insisted as she whirled around to face him, supporting herself with her right foot this time, the angry red on her face so noticeable even in the dark of night. "See!"

She attempted to walk a few times towards him, and Dan couldn't help but notice at how hard she strained herself to make every step with her left foot as normal and un-painful-looking as possible—he was almost convinced that she was doing just fine, though, because she was so good at keeping that impervious mask plastered all over her face as she did her job.

But the mask didn't last.

Dan hurried over to her with the concerned words of "Look out!" unconsciously finding themselves out of his mouth when he saw what was coming next. Natalie had wobbled dangerously when she had gingerly stepped onto her left foot, and for a second Dan thought that she was going to fall into that cliff for real this time, (come to think of it, why _were_ they even walking beside this dangerous cliff in the first place?) but thankfully he was quick-acting.

Natalie had released a small 'Eeep!', a horrified expression displayed in the vivid colours of the rainbow all over her face as she shut her eyes so tightly close, just like earlier, as if already expecting her face to smash right onto the forest floor but not wanting to witness any of it in Technicolor. But, contrary to what she expected to happen, instead, her hands landed right onto Dan, who slightly wobbled and swayed for a few seconds at the force of the impact of her weight onto his shoulder, but he was able to get a firm grip of her anyway.

Puke. That was the one word Dan tried not to put so much focus on at the moment. Because he was so sick of playing hero for this little brat—for two times, they were like in _this_ position where their bodies were so close, for TWO TIMES!—that he felt like just wanting to puke.

"Face it," Dan said, trying to sound as nonchalantly as he ever could, putting one hand onto her left shoulder as if that could help steady her balance. "Your arthritis is acting up. We need to get some sleep, somewhere around here."

Dan could see a slight sheen of moist glistening in Natalie's eyes when she titled her head to purposefully avoid his gaze, the moonlight coincidentally striking those tearful ambers. Shadows seemed to flick through those eyes like memories unwantedly stirring to life, and for a second Dan thought that she was actually about to say something un-snappish for the first time when she tentatively opened her mouth to speak.

"Where in that thick head of yours do you feel like you have authority over me?"

Or maybe not.

"Is that stubbornness a pride thing?" Dan said exhaustedly, making sure that his hand still rested onto her shoulder to keep her standing, although she had no reaction to it—or was trying _not_ to react, for that matter. Well, come to think of it, even if she still _had_ some of her Cobra-ness shining through in her snappish words, she didn't even swat his hand away, almost as if trying to be polite enough not to shake it off even if she wanted to. It was as if she _wanted_ this help from him, for the first time in her life.

That was a one time thing.

"No, it's not a stubbornness thing, it's more of like a girl thing," she responded, eyes still away from his. "We girls don't want boys dominating every inch of the land."

"Ehhhh. Girls, pride, what's the difference? The two are interchangeable."

But Natalie merely ignored the remark, her eyes still firmly fixed onto the prize—which was getting out of this Earthly Hades as soon as possible. "No," she said, that one word dripping of unbridled determination, fire in her eyes. She took her first step, unconsciously with her left foot, "We keep going—"

—but immediately doubled over from the pain exploding from her left foot.

Dan instantly took a step forward to help, but he stopped, just as immediately. Instead of acting all sappy like comforting her with the sort of words like 'Are you alright?' or 'It's going to be fine, everything will be alright' or 'Don't worry, don't worry, I gotcha' and all those other sappy things where he was sure would end up with him getting bashed by an irritated Natalie anyway, he entertained himself with rising second thoughts. She clearly didn't want anyone else's pity, much less _him_. If he asked her if she was okay, or extended a hand to help her up, and all those other sorts of sappy things, it would only surely feed the fire. Most likely, she'd only smack away any hand that wanted to help her—because it would only make her feel weak, incapable, because of her injured foot, wounded both metaphorically and literally, no matter how she wished that her wound didn't even exist in the first place.

So Dan decided to do her a favour, and not help her up at all. It was a compliment, actually, and with the mocking, cynical laugh that escaped his lips, he unconsciously told her without words that he believed she could get herself up without anyone else's help even with this disability of hers.

"That's what you get for acting all stubborn," he scolded after his laugh, looking pointedly at her left foot. "Now, you want to climb that boulder? I thought you said you wanted to keep going."

Natalie took one look at the boulder that Dan was pointing at, and visibly flinched at the idea of her having to climb it with the throbbing pain that still persisted to live in her left foot. Although her desire of getting out of this forest was getting more and more uncontrollable now that she knew she would have to stay in here for one more tedious night in a bed of sticks and leaves, she had to take a drastic measure—which was to be practical. She didn't want to admit it, but, indeed, she would only just slow down the process of getting out of this nowhere if she insisted on keeping on; courtesy of this blasted left foot of hers.

Now that seemed like a cruel joke.

She contemplated her options for a few more moments. The sound of the rushing river from down below and the life of the nocturnal animals reigned in the silence while Dan waited for her answer, with a grin onto his face, knowing all too well that Natalie was about to give it up. And that's exactly what she did next.

"Fine," she snapped, but not unkindly, as she released a dejected sigh. "Let's…let's get some rest."

* * *

 **And that's Part One. Phew. Did anyone even reach the end part?**

 **I'm sending a shout-out to scrittore18! Her Natan series,** Sunshine and Pretendings **and** Burnings and Masquerades **, were what inspired this fic. (I'm sorry for the Wednesday thing, but at least I still got it up, right?) I hope you're reading this! ^.^ For everyone else, thank you thank you THANK YOU for reading! (And…for *** _ **probably**_ *** leaving a review?)**

 **~~When an idea has been pestering you for DAYS but you don't know where to jam it in your already hectic schedule~~ *stares openmouthed at bloody To Do List* So part two might wait for, at least, a week. But I promise that it WILL be written.**

 **#TheStruggleIsReal**

 **Until Part Two,  
~Rival Argentica**

(PS: I'm desperate for voters on my poll. XD To those who still haven't, please please please visit my profile!)


	2. Lost Hearts: Part II

**Apologies for the delayed update! *ducks to avoid rotten tomato* If you want to hear my excuse as to why it is so, then here: I was horribly distracted by story ideas that I have for Lord Shen, the antagonist of** Kung Fu Panda 2 **, preventing me from writing anything decent with t39c. I've been like this ever since the release of the third movie, when I was nothing but a snivelling, overwhelmed, and passionately obsessed fangirl. I know, I'm** _ **terrible**_ **to have left this for a month just because of that. But to those who continue to read my humble story despite my terribleness, thank you, and read on! For the new ones—hello there, friend! *waves hand* I hope you enjoy! Although the ridiculous length was unintended, (as usual), I really hope you'd like it. :)**

 **Oh! And once this uploads…I would have archived 100 000 words overall into FanFiction dot net! Woot woot! Isn't that just fantastic? This is an accomplishment I would NEVER forget as Rival Argentica! I think I have to go rewatch Kung Fu Panda 3 as a reward for myself! Because, seriously. This is most positively a day of GLORY, a sign that I've been using my account for nothing but honing myself for much-wanted AWESOMENESS. XD**

 **Okay. So part two felt a little clunky for me, but…. Onward we go!**

* * *

Lost Hearts  
Part Two

* * *

Insect life played a musical that lulled them into sleep, all throughout the night. The dreamless hours passed without interruption, and their bodies were silently thankful for the continuous rest. The vast canopy of acacia leaves formed a cool roof of foliage above them, creating a cosy atmosphere had at least reduced the piercing coldness by the slightest, unnoticeable degree. The dawn was starting to peek, a small tinge of orangey-grey rising slowly from the unseen horizon; but it was still too early in the morning to even try and get up.

Dan had never been so thankful to Amy when she'd insisted he become a member of the Boy Scouts. He had built a bed of dried twigs and leaves beside a tree with an enormous chest, where Lucian and Madrigal rested their heads, sleeping in a sitting position. (By now, though, that sitting position evolved into a _very_ uncomfortable lying position—at least for Dan, so he's chanced to get a stiff neck upon waking up.) Natalie had a fit about this 'horridly horrid' arrangement of twigs and leaves, but to the relief of Dan's abused ear, her exhaustion had gotten over her fanciful preferences and decided that sleeping on the forest floor was only going to happen once in her entire life. They made it a mandatory point that Natalie would face the right side, and Dan the left. Last night, though, when the cold struck, it was _freezing_ —and, without any sort of blanket, Dan and Natalie had no choice but to settle on a silent agreement to sleep closely, side by side, to get much-needed warmth from each other, no matter how both of them looked so disgusted by even thinking about it. But if they didn't want to die of cold, they had to.

Right now, though, when Dan felt his back touch the cold grass, he felt himself shiver and he practically, subconsciously, craved for that warmth again. He snuggled closer to her, where he would think that his back would touch hers, so that warmth would spread throughout his cold body again and he could go back to sleep—but then he realized that the spot beside him was empty.

That forced his eyes open.

"Natalie?" he groaned, pushing himself up, rubbing his half-lidded eyes as some flakes fell away. A long, mollifying yawn escaped his mouth. He was half-awake, but his senses were slowly starting to return as he blinked away the void of black and was replaced by the image of the gloomy forest that surrounded him. He sat there for a while, groggy and dazed, not knowing what he was looking for, why he even got up, where he was, what the hell happened, pardon the language, why he even got up, and who he was.

Just then, all came to him—

His name was Dan, they were lost somewhere in the Cahill Estate's forest grounds, he was with Natalie, he was the reason they got lost, he was with Natalie, they didn't know the way out, he was with Natalie, they were tired so they got some rest, he was with Natalie, she always fired him insults and they were all so sappy, and she almost fell off a cliff but he saved her butt, he was with—

He snapped his eyes open.

He was with _Natalie?_

His eyes automatically scanned all around him, swerving his head left and right, searching for someone that his subconscious had just been thinking about while he had been half-asleep. He was fully awake now, though. Because if he was with Natalie, then where _was_ she?

He let the pieces slowly click as two and two came together in his mind. As the picture started to form, he decided that…that…Wait. Wait a minute. Wait—oh!

Oh, _no!_

He bolted right up from his crunchy bed of leaves, barely even acknowledging his stiff neck, pushing himself up with his knee, frantic about the fact that he was by himself from now on.

Natalie, that Prada _brat_ —just how DARE she leave him alone, and, worse still, while he was _sleeping?_

Dan was fuming, angry, as he got up from his 'bed', brushing off the dried leaves and twigs that stuck to his clothing. If he were a cartoon character, he would have steam coming out of his ears and nose, the redness on his face not just existing because of the chill of the air. _It figures._ She was the stubbornest, arrogantest, spoiledest brat he had ever met in his entire life, and, not to mention, but he was going to mention it anyway, she was a two-headed, double-crossing _Lucian_. Once he had fallen asleep, the most probable thing she did was pack up her things and search for a way out, and, for all he knew, she was now having tea back in the mansion with her equally despicable brother, squawking about her petty little nails while _he_ was lost in the middle of the forest.

He saved her annoying life from falling off a cliff even if he _didn't_ _want_ _to_ (yes, he didn't _want_ to save her, he just did it out of necessity and obligation, _nothing else_ , and he is NOT in denial), and being _ditched_ is what he gets in return?

He thought she'd changed. He thought she didn't have the guts to even hurt someone. Sure, the fact that he might be an exception to this one rule still existed, but leaving him all alone on his own without knowing a way out was a little bit too extreme. Yes, she'd once attempted to trap him and his sister in a cave to die of starvation and lack of oxygen with her equally despicable brother, but he thought she'd actually _changed_ _for the better_.

Looking at his situation right now, he, apparently, was dead wrong.

Fire playing in his determined green eyes, he started to stomp away, deciding on doing this on his own. Fine, then, if Natalie _didn't_ want to work with him, _fine!_ The feeling was so freaking _mutual_ , pardon the ill-chosen language.

But before his foot even landed on the crisp fallen leaves on the ground to take his first step, he heard something rustle from behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose in alarm. His blood ran cold. His heart stopped, eyes growing wide, as his mind processed that little rustling sound, cancelling out all the other possibilities and drawing one conclusion.

 _It was the sound of a snake_.

His mind ran ferociously. How many species of poisonous snakes existed in Massachusetts? He hoped there weren't many. But, even though the possibility of encountering a snake around these areas is low, he slowly bent down, anxious eyes on red alert level, darting watchfully here and there, as he ever so silently picked up a long stick from the leafy ground, a large twig which he could use to battle any wild animal around here that intended on pouncing on him. It was paranoia working on him, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. He wasn't even sure why he _wasn't_ just running away and leaving this snake to itself, and be done with it.

But being a Cahill thought him to be Cahill.

There. The rustling again. It came from his right, so he headed just over there. He lifted up the leafy branches that stood in his way as he walked toward 'it', though he didn't know what it really was that he was walking toward to. (It was no big deal to him, though; he and Natalie had been doing just that all day long yesterday.) The sound of the rushing river from where Natalie almost drowned into last night got louder and louder in his ears, which means he was closing his distance with the said watercourse. But then, all thoughts of his surroundings became forgotten as he spotted his target—he saw something move behind a tree, a tree that stood just beside the cliff that housed the river. Upon seeing so, he reacted on instinct.

He ran.

He ran with his macho piece of twig raised up over his head, ready to attack and pounce on whatever this species of snake was—and not without a fierce, ear-splitting battle cry.

" _Surrender!"_ he shrieked like the awesome ninja warlord he was, advancing towards the vicious snake with the said macho twig in his hand held like a battering ram. _"Surrender in the name of the awesomesauce ninja lo—"_

"What in the—Daniel?!"

There was only one species of snake who called him that way, and so he stopped from running in his tracks, opening his eyes that he hadn't even realized he'd closed, and found out that he'd stopped just in time, like a car screeching to a halt, to stand right over a disgusted Natalie. His mouth was open, the battle cry dying in his throat, hands over his head as he clasped his macho piece of twig, almost looking as if he was a character in an action movie put on pause as he looked down at her with shock in his eyes. He clearly didn't expect to find Natalie still around here—he had honestly thought that he was about to strike on a snake, which would be a cool story to tell his kids one day. (In addition to the many near-death situations he'd already had, that is.)

"What are you _doing?_ " she demanded, face contorted into sickened revulsion at the sight of an unruly Dan, who acted just as usual. She flinched at the filthy, morning sight of him, distastefully inching away from the aforementioned…creature. "Are you a caveman that has come to life? And, my word, what on earth are you holding?" She referred to the large, macho branch he held macho-ly in his hands. "Were you just about to _club_ me?"

Natalie was disgusted. Ugh. She seriously hoped he hadn't come up with this with the purpose of having to annoy her all day long. Again. An image of him running around like Tarzan in his underpants and beating his chest as he yodelled to call upon the gorillas that secretly lived in this forest briefly flashed in her mind. He might even force her to swing from vine to vine, or, worse, eat her like the cannibal he was. It's a barbaric idea to think, yes, but with Dan, everything is completely plausible. The thought scared her, because it wasn't far from the fact that it _might_ actually happen. Anytime today. Yes, well, he acted semi-nice last night, and she knew he doesn't deserve to be thought of this way—but, truth be told, no one could blame her.

It was barely morning, and here he was. Standing over her with a club. Or a large twig, or whatever it was.

"Were you just about to _club_ me?! _"_ she repeated, more loudly and irritably.

"N… _Nat?_ Is that really _you?_ " he spluttered, eyes wide with shock, possibly just as hers were. He seemed honestly surprised to see her there, as if she'd just appeared in front of him with a _poof_.

Her face reddened as shallow anger overwhelmed her.

"You will address me as Natalie! I said Natalie, _Daniel_ , you—" She paused. "You…"

Now she let herself fall into silence. She was suddenly wondering what has gone wrong with her mouth, and it must be something so severe because she couldn't even find an insulting word to fire at him—which, at any day, would slip off her tongue like natural poetry. Her voice faltered, the brusqueness of her tone fading away in a non-existent distance as that shallow hole immediately filled up with muteness. "You…"

"…fool?" Dan supplied in sarcastic helpfulness for her sudden lack of insulting words. "It's okay if you keep telling me that—I'm used to it."

She struggled to think of a word, or a pithy comeback phrase to spit at him for the moment, but unfortunately, nothing came. Her mind was completely blank; even though she felt absolutely livid. Because how could she? How could she insult a person who had so far managed to tolerate her, someone who looked past her petulance? All night, she had been contemplating on the words that he had planted in her head; she had tossed and turned through the hours, and even as she so enviously wanted to smack Dan for sleeping peacefully while she could practically _not_ , she couldn't help but feel…thankful for him.

Thankful that he hadn't left her yet.

Because, look at it this way. If anyone else was in _his_ position, they probably would have given up on trying to tolerate her, and would have preferred on going on a separate route, completely leaving her alone. Dan could have done just that—it would be easier on his part, without her complaining voice grinding at the airwaves. But even though, _instead_ , he stuck with her, no matter how much he declared he didn't want to. No one else would do that for Natalie, except for his brother, Ian, who she considered as her best friend—her only friend.

And, now, she looked up at Dan, who was waiting for her to continue her broken sentence—him, who might as well be…a friend. A real, live, actual friend.

She turned away, the expression on her face resembling that of last night, when her muscle urges where practically _screaming_ to slap him, but she didn't. Because she 'didn't have the guts'.

And she felt that helpless feeling wash over her all over again.

"You will address me as Natalie, Daniel," she managed to get out, quietly, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head turned away. Her hand clutched tightly at the edge of a piece of paper she was holding, as if that would give her the strength of trying to speak again. Her eyes held a far-away gleam, and it was vaguely reflected in the tone of voice she used for her next words. "You…you're awake early."

There. She got it out.

Right then and there, though, she decided that she'd been _too_ nice to him already. She sent him a look that could've made a Cobra of her own species flinch away in fear.

"And what _were_ you just about to do, _attack_ me?"

Dan flinched, ever so unnoticeably. Natalie let herself relish that second of her superiority taking effect on it; she loved that feeling of dominating over others. It made her relieved to feel her old, haughty self surfacing again, building up walls that stood up high to surround her in their security. She decided that she would never take a step beyond those walls ever again—the height of her arrogance was the only thing that kept her concealed all this time, and she had no intentions of breaking that rule anytime right now, just because Daniel Arthur Cahill was all semi-nice.

Dan eventually chose to just shrug in reply. "I thought you were a snake. But, really, there's not much of a difference." He dropped his not-so-macho stick casually on the ground as he let himself fall beside her to sit, so that both were facing eastwards, facing the part of the horizon where the sun was rising. As soon as his bum hit the floor, though, something hit his mind as well. He observed his surroundings—it was no different from the bed of twigs and leaves that he had built last night for her, except only a little less puffy. Then he took a look at the girl sitting just beside him.

His mind took in long, precious seconds to let this fact sink in.

Wow. Come to think of it, is this _really_ Natalie, willingly sitting on the floor with no fancy cushion to rest her butt on? Dan practically gawked at her, because he couldn't help but marvel at this once-in-a-lifetime sight.

But he also couldn't help but feel an irresistible itch on his bottom. Itch? What was itchy?

Dan lifted his bum from the leafy floor for a second, and pulled out a sharp-edged macho stick (ow) that he had accidentally fractured into pieces when he had sat on it upon impact. Oops.

And…there. Ah. Satisfying.

Satisfyingly refreshing, indeed.

" _Seriously_ ," Natalie scorned, who had been watching him, rolling her eyes disgustedly at his unorthodox methods of satisfying an itch.

Dan grinned at her expected reaction. He just _loved_ to see her disgusted, and he was glad to know that his professional skillz (a.k.a. annoying Natalie) weren't getting old. It made him feel like a boy acting like a boy, spending his downtime annoying all the annoying girls who dared defy his awesomeness. He _missed_ this. Usually he did this on his girl classmates in his younger years, but ever since the Clue Hunt, he'd grown a bit…darker, with his eyes, young as they were, having seen what the world really is at its core. Naturally, this made him distance himself from other social relations other than his family, with intentions of keeping others safe and get them involved in Cahill matters. Thankfully, Natalie was family—else he wouldn't have anything fun to do with his life without someone other than Amy to annoy. (Amy was getting boring through the years, so, really, good ol' Natalie would perfectly fit the spot.)

Suddenly, though, as he was thinking this, something struck him, eyes lighting up as if a bulb had been switched on. Doubled with a grin, he rubbed his hands together, anticipating it. He looked at her direction, intending to snap at her the smart one-liner that he had thought of just now—

But the grin on his face suddenly froze, the jest in his tongue evaporating away. He didn't know why, but, looking at Natalie right now, he suddenly felt—

He swallowed his pride.

— _guilty_.

Guilty for even thinking that Natalie would just abandon him just like that. His thoughts regarding the female Lucian just this morning came right back, swallowing him whole like a tidal wave. He regretted even giving her that shred of doubt, when it was _him_ who had tried to assure her that she would never be able to hurt anyone anymore. She doesn't deserve to be thought of that way, just because of the family name she bears with her. He had to remind himself that the evilness of her parents, the cruel reputation of her branch, wasn't something she willingly wanted to inherit, and that he had to be amazed at how quickly she was able to adapt to her condition, and stand bravely on her own feet without the help of Isabel. Although he knew in himself that he would never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER stop calling her the nickname 'Cobra', she wasn't the same evil Kabra that she had been back then. She was…

…different now.

Dan risked another glance over at Natalie, who was spacing out in her own little world, just as he was, the monotonous expression on her face making ghostly lines that seemed a little more like the lifts found in a smile. Strands of her black hair flowed backwards at the force of the soft breeze, accentuating the nostalgic look in her amber eyes that seemed even more distant than the farthest stars. She let her head rest onto her knees, which were pulled up to her chest, her arms enclosing around her legs, one of her hands still gripping tightly onto a small, pocket-sized photo-paper, clutching it as if her life depended on it. From the lonely sight, the wistful look in her misty eyes, the reflective expression onto her reminiscent face, Dan got the impression that she was actually…

She was actually _hugging_ herself.

Although she was still a whiny, shopping-obsessed Cobra who complained every time she spotted a speck of dust or a seam of thread on her precious Prada doodads, this sight of her, poured into a new light, it was actually very different from the former Natalie Kabra that he had known.

Therefore, Dan Arthur Cahill came to the conclusion that he had to remind himself again and again that Natalie had changed, and _nothing_ would change that, unless of course she welcomed change, but that depends on what kind of change she would welcome, of course, good change or bad change, but the possibility of her even accepting the former kind of change in the first place is low, because she had, after all, already changed.

His head spun at that. It resulted in an extreme brain pain, though, so he immediately stopped thinking about the concept of change and flung it away in a distant ocean.

Both settled into silence. The glum sky was slowly turning from dark indigo to a bright, cerulean blue, the sun rising slowly from the east, indicating the beginning of a new day. They could hear the whistling of the cool breeze, the rushing of the river from down below, the unmistakable sound of Natalie's fallen Jimmy Choo shoe lapping against the rocks from the river below the cliff, still unwashed away. At the thought of Natalie's fallen shoe, though, Dan's eyes turned involuntarily to look at her left foot, which she had wrapped around in white clothing, probably a spare dressing she always brought with her—just in case she...fell in cases like this. And he couldn't help but feel sorry.

And then he realized that he was actually _too_ sorry for her that he didn't know what to think of it. So he just decided to avert his thoughts to somewhere else and rather not think about her foot. She would probably only smack him on the head if he even mentioned it, because, knowing Natalie Kabra, well, she was Natalie Kabra.

Meanwhile, Natalie thought that she must have gone deaf, or Daniel must have gone mute—but she appreciated the silence nonetheless. For those fleeting little moments, silence was golden, a privilege that neither could have at another time and space, and both decided that they should probably cherish it while they still could. For all they knew, they would have to trudge through this place and scour every edge of it until they found home, which would most likely take a lot of time—and energy. Resting was vital, and they have just had that, but so was silence. Comfortable silence cleared the mind and purified any stain in the atmosphere. It took Dan a full five minutes to realize that he hadn't gone into this much silence whenever he was with her, and the fact almost astounded him. Once he was sure that they've had enough of silence and that he could use a little conversation, though, he opened his mouth to speak.

"You're…awake early, too," he said, after much observation. And, overcome by curiosity, he quickly added, "What were you doing out here, anyway?" He then pointed at the white paper that she was holding in one hand, which he wouldn't have even noticed hadn't he been practically _gawking_ at her just earlier. (Alright, guilty.) "And what's that?"

He saw her flinch, and for what reason, he didn't know.

"This is…" She debated with herself for a little while more, but then, eventually, she gave up, sighing just as heavily. "…a photo."

"Of what?"

"Of…" She seemed to have trouble getting out the words, but did he just notice a tinge of red spread throughout her cheeks? As she trailed a finger distractedly over the edges of the wallet-sized photo paper, she continued, quite tentatively, "…of a handsome boy."

Dan gasped as if he'd just heard the most shocking news on the planet.

"You have a photo of _ME_?!"

Natalie sent him a blank look, and Dan could see the gears behind her head working profusely as she tried to absorb his words like water in a sponge.

"Why ever would you…even think…"

Until it clicked.

"NO!" Her eyes widened the size of saucers, and he could _swear_ he just heard a vein pop from inside her forehead. She towered over him menacingly, pointing at his chin with an index finger so that he was forced to crane up his neck to make him look like his throat was about to be slit. "I don't, _don't_ , have a picture of YOU, you ugly, annoying, despicable _twit!"_

Dan bristled at their close distance, blinking, his mind taking its time—perhaps too much time—trying to process the situation. But what _was_ that on her cheeks? Wait…oh, ninja gods…was that actually a _blush?_ And…whoa, would you look at _that_ , was that actually dread, panic, denial, _defensiveness_ in her tone?

As if sensing Dan's dubiousness, what with the impish grin on his face growing even wider, Natalie grew even more hysterical. She held out the small, white, photo-paper, letting him see it as proof, frantically waving it in front of his face _just_ to make him _see_ that she did NOT keep a photo of him whatsoever.

"This is _not_ a photo of _you_ , you—you—you _despicable creature!_ " Natalie had never felt so relieved in finally getting out an insult from her lips. "This is my _family photo_ , alright!"

Dan laughed, a sound that was a mixture of amusement at her frenetic reactions, with the slightest tinge of empathy at the fact that she was keeping something as sentimental so early in the morning.

A family photo. He didn't know the Kabras actually had one. But when he did spare it a glance, just a quick sweep of his eyes, he noticed…he noticed that the edges of the small, pocket-sized photo were beginning to yellow, their parents looked so much younger, and Natalie and Ian were probably only like five and seven years old, smiling up at the camera, just as stiffly as Isabel and Vikram were.

It was taken a very long time ago.

Well, sure, Dan had no parents, but he had plenty to consider his family—Amy, Nellie, Fiske, his best friend Atticus, or maybe even Beatrice. (Okay, maybe not so much on Beatrice, but whatever.) Right now, even if he knew that Natalie had the privilege to actually grow up in a mother's arms, he found himself actually _pitying_ her, even if _he's_ the one here who had dead parents, when Natalie's were still alive. So as he stared at the image, looking intently at those stiff smiles and condescending eyes, a photograph taken more or less than eight, nine years ago, he couldn't help wondering…

…when was the last time the Kabras had a real, family bonding time?

"Don't get all too flustered, Nat," he said as he waved the photograph away from his face, still laughing at the way she fumed like a cartoon character, her nostrils practically emitting steam, her face so red it might as well explode. Then, he turned his head away from her as his laughter faded, the atmosphere slowly shifting once again from uproarious to elegiac as the small flecks of clouds in the sky adopted the orange and yellow colours of the gently rising sun.

"But…" he started after much silence, "but why would you…why would you be holding that right now?" The question was faintly asked, but firmly, a glaring contrast from the usual, carefree way he talked to her. He found his question rather daring, as if trying to push the boat, gently at first, to see if it would float on unexplored depths. "I didn't know you even kept a family photo in the first place."

She blinked, bafflement in her eyes, clearly not expecting this sudden change of mood from her usually facetious companion. For a second she didn't know what she should do—tell him to get away from her business, or take the plunge and answer it.

"I…you see, I just…I merely…" Natalie found herself struggling with words and trying to keep afloat, since handling conversations like these wasn't really her field of expertise. But, nevertheless, she decided to just tell him what he wanted to hear, and she did this not without a defeated sigh. She took one look at the photo in her hand, a mist of longing glistening in her eyes.

"Because I couldn't…sleep."

The answer was barely even enough to Dan. "Huh? Why?"

"I…I just—" But Natalie stopped, catching herself in the middle of starting to open up her doors and letting it all out. She immediately closed those said doors and threw away the key. She scolded herself for being so easily evoked. Why _should_ she open up to this…this…this _vixen_ that couldn't do anything good but deign impression because of his nicely-shaped left earlobe? She was thankful to whatever gods there were up there that she was quick to snatching back the reigns of her emotions from Dan and force herself on track again.

"Must you ask every bloody question about my personal life?" snapped Natalie.

That silenced him. Okay, so obviously she couldn't handle herself when it comes to strange waters, so he decided to immediately bring back the boat to its comfort zone.

"Okay, okay, sorry," he said, coming back to his usual, light-hearted self. "Don't mind me. Me has big stupid mouth."

Silence grew for a few more seconds. Until, after having observed the faint circles under her exhausted eyes, Dan blurted out—

"Hey…did you sleep at _all?_ "

Flinch.

"Oh, sorry." Maybe he _had_ gone a little too far. "I shouldn't have asked—"

"No," Natalie interrupted, in an almost submissive tone, which surprised him. "It's…quite alright." She was looking blankly through space, as if she suddenly found the dull, lifeless rocks very fascinating. "I didn't have any spare analgesic pills with me to ease the discomfort, so my…my ar…arthri…"

Dan decided to be upfront in this. "Your arthritis."

There was a brief pause.

"…yes." The monosyllabic word was short and quiet, but hidden beneath is a heaviness that Natalie couldn't seem to bring herself into saying without difficulty and effort. "My…arthritis…never left me." She shifted her feet to a more comfortable position, visibly flinched when she lifted her left, and when she settled, she continued. "So, yes, I didn't get a wink of sleep at all."

"Oh." Dan didn't know what else to say in response to that. "I'm sorry."

Again, silence settled. Until Natalie broke it when she cleared her throat, quite…awkwardly.

"Um…Daniel."

"It's Dan, actually."

She merely ignored the remark. "Last night." She turned her head to avoid his probing look at all means. "I suppose I…" She cleared her throat again. "I suppose I should thank you."

'But I won't.'

—is what Dan expected her to say next. But instead…

"…so thank you."

Dan didn't know if this was a joke played either by his ears or by Natalie herself, which could explain the widening of his eyes.

"Y…you're welcome…?" The last syllable that had escaped his mouth sounded a little similar to that of a mouse's high-pitched squeak. Looks like he, too, can't handle strange waters dripping of such sappiness just the same as she.

"So!" Natalie suddenly said, her accented voice snapping at the tense air when she heaved a large gulp of air and let it out, refreshingly. When Dan observed that her shoulders suddenly seemed a little less taut, her posture a little less stiff, and the weight in her eyes a little less pensive than her sober self just mere seconds ago, he figured that saying 'thank you' for her was like an enormous challenge that getting herself to actually say it would mean almost equally to lifting off some sort of heavy, physical burden from her shoulders. It certainly showed on the improvement of her features. Huh. Was it _that_ hard for these Cobras to eat their pride once in a while?

"How long do you think we'll be stuck out here?" she asked, with a tone that held a little resemblance to that of a scripted line. "Do you think someone will come and get us?"

He knew that she was deliberately trying to get him jogging along in the sudden change of subject, and, as a matter of fact, Dan didn't mind playing along. It's not as if he wanted to walk down Sentimental Avenue the whole day while, what, holding hands with Natalie 'Eeek My Hair's A Disaster' Kabra?

No, thanks.

"Definitely," Dan answered, and with conviction. "Amy and Ian must be worried sick about us by now, so don't worry about it. They probably already have a search party patrolling around here. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no, no reason at all," she said, without a hint of her usual sarcasm or haughtiness. She almost sounded…conversational? Wow. He was amazed. Not because of Natalie being actually conversational, but because he never knew he could ever think of such a big word like 'conversational'. On Natalie's lips appeared the ghost of a nostalgic smile. "I just remembered something."

"What?"

"It's…" Natalie looked like as if she was about to tell him something serious—but she immediately changed her mind at the last minute, as if suddenly catching herself in the middle of doing something without her own mind's consent. "…ridiculous. It's ridiculous," she repeated, a little quicker than to what Dan would've considered as normal. "You wouldn't want to hear it."

"Aw, come on," he said, pretending to sound a little more disappointed than to what he actually felt. "I mean, duh, it's not like we have anything else to talk about out here. Don't make me announce to the world that you're, like, the boringest person ever."

"…point taken. Fine, I'll tell you," Natalie said, but not unkindly. "Well, back in the day, when we were younger, Ian and I would often get lost on our own manor grounds. A situation _very_ strikingly similar to our current, unfortunate condition." She gave him a pointed look—yes, she was still angry at him for _dragging_ her out here and being the cause of the tragedy that was her nails—oh, just look at them, her little red babies _desperately_ needed a manicure. "Whenever such an occurrence happens, whenever we unfortunately get ourselves lost in our own home, Mum would send homing poodles—"

Dan gasped as if he'd never heard about homing poodles before. "Homing _poodles?_ "

"—to get us back. Mum would reprimand us about how poorly-skilled we were in navigation. It was a tedious childhood." Oh, how she _hoped_ he had the ability to take in one more clue, just _one_ _more_ , despite having all thirty-nine stuffed inside that nonexistent brain of his. "It is a part of my past, one that I never actually _like_ talking about."

But Dan was still stuck on the homing poodles.

"Homing _poodles?_ " he said again, trying so hard not to laugh.

"Yes." She fixed on him a hard stare. "Homing poodles. Might you have a problem with that?"

"No, it's just that—" he cleared his throat to cover up a bubbling laugh— "it's just that…you know. Homing _poodles_." He burst out laughing, even as he bit his lip to try to suppress it. "The idea of…of the homing _poo-_ dles. The way it sounds."

Natalie rolled her eyes at him as he struggled to keep his laughs down. She couldn't figure out what was so funny about homing poodles. She waited until he was finally calm—which took about a full three or five minutes.

"Would you mind telling me what you were just laughing about?" she finally asked when he quieted.

"Nah, i-it's nothing," he replied, a bit waveringly from the bout of laughter that still lingered as an aftermath. "The topic of dogs—I just remembered something. Remember Buffy, Alistair's bulldog? That time he awesomely bit on your brother's butt?"

It took Natalie two slow eye blinks before she remembered, that day in South Korea when Ian had been drenched in a soup of embarrassment because his boxers with pink dollar signs imprints on its white background had been exposed. She then actually shared in Dan's laughter at the memory.

"Ah. That."

"Now, back to the homing poodles," Dan said. "I remember you talking about that sometime ago. So your momma sent them to you to rescue you, when you got lost on the Kabra estate grounds?"

Natalie shrugged as a means of saying 'yes'.

"And then you get chewed out when she found you, because you're a sucker at navigating?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Man," Dan said. "That's cruel. I mean, it's not your fault that the Kabra grounds were so large, and you were just kids, so you getting lost is expected—but she didn't even consider that, only to tell you off. What kind of a mom is she?" He mused aloud. Then he shrugged, letting it go, and flashed a smile towards Natalie, hoping that it would give a little of an uplift from a topic hidden deep in a trench for a ling time until now. "Isabel's a very loving one, isn't she?"

Pause. Then Dan froze.

Natalie did not share his smile.

" _Yes."_ That one word was stiff and clear. "I know you're going to say she murdered your parents, she's the most evil woman you've ever met, she attempted to take over the world and all those bloody indictments, and those are actually…truths, yes," she closed her eyes, took in a breath, and snapped to look at him. Sharply. "But she'd always be my Mum."

Dan reeled back incredulously. "Is that what having a parent _feels_ like? You are forced to love them or something, even if they don't deserve it?"

"What did you say? Even if they 'don't deserve it'?" Natalie echoed vehemently. "No. _My_ Mum deserves it."

Dan frowned. Well, he practically _hated_ the woman, that snake named Isabel Kabra, she who burned those childhood memories that he could have right now if his parents were still alive. She was the one who tried to conquer the world and make everyone fall to its knees with the great power she could have wielded, hadn't it been for the efforts of the younger generation of Cahills uniting to work against her. He suddenly felt determined to make Natalie look at this the other way around, in _his_ point of view. And he was going to do this, by using her own language.

"No! Isabel—I mean, your mom—she _doesn't_ deserve it. The woman killed everyone who tried to get in her way of getting those _horrid_ thirty-nine ingredients of doom. Sometimes I even wonder if the crazy, psychotic lady had a heart in the first place. And, Natalie—" he braced himself, shivered, as if, even though thoughts of Isabel would forever remain a memory from now on, it still brought him the chills, but then he heaved in a breath, let it out—

"—she actually _shot you in the foot._ "

There was a pause in the air as Dan waited for a reaction, eyeing her carefully like she was a roasted turkey. He expected her to burst in tears, or to act all dramatic and sappy, or to _flinch_ at the least, or—

"Do you think a lot about _your_ parents?"

But contrary to what he had been expecting, she had her eyes narrowed into calculating slits. Uh-oh. Dan recognized the fire in her voice, and it must be the same one that she used when she was seriously riled up—because it was _him_ who actually did the flinching, courtesy of the deathly malice in her voice. He knew he had hit a nerve. Again. And hitting a Cobra's nerve was never a good thing.

(Under certain circumstances, that is.)

"Whoa," he said, backing out with his hands up in surrender. "Chill a little, Nat! Why the sudden—"

"Do _you_ think a lot about _your_ parents?" she repeated, this time with a little more…intensity put into her words, as if she was grilling on metal and her words were her chainsaw. She looked at him, eye-to-eye, and even as Dan wanted to look away, he found himself staring right back at those probing golden eyes that seemed to radiate an invisible force, strangely similar to that of the gravity of a swirling black hole—powerful, relentless, drawing everything to itself, and would show no mercy to anyone or anything, not even light. He couldn't look away, and that in itself was already torture.

Whoa. He gotta learn how to pull off _that_ kind of look someday. It'd go perfectly with his Deathly Ninja Facial Expressions collection, all used to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies.

And this one look was currently doing just that.

"Well…" Dan's hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, and it took him great effort to try to look away, to try to look casual even as his innards were practically shuddering. "Well, yeah. I think a lot about my parents, too."

"Even if you don't remember them at all?"

Dan gave in. Okay, alright, he got her point. He released a sigh, looked at the ground meekly, and said with a quiet voice—

"Even if I don't remember them at all."

Natalie smirked triumphantly at his surrender, feeling superior. But the vicious smirk only lasted for nothing more than a fraction of a second, since it was immediately wiped away by an understanding smile.

"It is the same way with me," she said, quietly, looking at him, kindly. (Dan blinked, completely astounded— _kindly?_ ) "Even if…even if she is what she is, I…think about my mother, and often."

Dan, who tried to pull himself away from her gravity, puffed out the air from his cheeks so it sounded more of like an unconvinced scoff. "I can't believe that even if she left, like, a hole the size of a _cannonball_ wound on your foot, you're still as attached to Isa- _evil_ as you probably were when you were still in her womb in your umbilical cord."

"Well." Natalie blinked, not really sure on how she should react to a topic that suddenly shifted to umbilical cords. "She _is_ my Mum. No amount of you people's blathering would change that. She'd _always_ be my Mum."

"Even if she left a hole the size of a cannonball wound on your foot?"

Natalie smiled. Well, her smile was actually pained, but, nevertheless, it was still a smile.

"Even if she left a hole the size of a cannonball wound on my foot."

Dan started grinning at her response, shaking his head in amusement. Natalie caught sight of this, however, and her smile immediately shriveled to ashes and burned into a flaring frown.

"What are _you_ grinning about?"

"Oh, _nothing_ ," he said, smiling condescendingly as he nonchalantly put his hands behind his head in a relaxed manner, leaning back against the tree's trunk. "It's just that I never knew that a Cobra could be such a softie."

It was instinct for her to react hotly. "Excuse me, I am not a 'softie'! I happen to be a remorseless _Lucian_."

"Right. A remorseless Lucian sobbing all over me last night like a baby." He sniffed the air. "And _smells_ like a baby, too."

Natalie's tanned skin morphed into a dangerous red. How _dare_ he insult her favorite and expensive Monique Lhuilier's Lavender Flurry Charm perfume spray! It was her third favorite collection!

Or maybe fourth…but still!

"You have to be _thankful_ you're still breathing oxygen right now—and emitting _very_ foul-smelling carbon dioxide at that!"

As if suddenly afraid of contaminating some sort of virus similar to that of the bubonic plague, she distastefully inched away from him for emphasis, just to indicate her sheer disgust at his unhygienic and germ-infested way of life.

But…

…just an inch.

Natalie reddened.

 _Well._

Dan, thankfully, seemed not to notice that additional coat of blushing pink that blanketed her already angry red skin. "Hey, speak for yourself!" he bit back. " _You_ haven't showered for, like, a full twenty-four hours too."

"True, but I bring this thing we girls call a 'purse' containing all items necessary to maintain _hygiene_ ," she said, oh-so-prettily, words dripping of sarcasm as her eyelashes almost touched her cheeks in mock-sweetness. Ah, how she _missed_ sarcasm. It at least eased the blushing of her skin, the reason behind which unbeknownst even to her. "And _hygiene_ is related to keeping one's self _clean_ , in case you didn't know."

Boys and their immature impudence when it came to the topic of hygienic matters—they _galled_ her.

Dan frowned, suppressing a 'Hey I know what hygiene means because, like, we took that up in kindergarten so don't you lecture me about hygiene you Cobraaa!' that threatened to erupt from his throat. But instead of wasting his breath that was sure to be fruitless, anyway, he settled with—

"Did someone _ever_ tell you just how obnoxious you are?"

"Did you ever know that the only reason you're still alive is because it's illegal to kill?"

"Yep." Dan made a popping sound with the 'P'. "I get reminded five hundred times a day, by, oh, I dunno, a whiny brat whose name sounds like a snake."

Natalie drew out a dart gun from her purse, and lovingly looked at it as she flecked a speck of dust with a finger—the sight of which immediately causing Dan to recoil and clam himself up. The British girl let a superior air surround her, huffing it out in a triumphant scoff as she looked him over, satisfied of his withdrawn, surrendering reaction. _So he's smart enough to play it safe, isn't he?_

"Maybe," she drawled innocently, "just _maybe_ , I wouldn't find the… _need_ to do such thing." She looked at him pointedly, as if her gaze itself was a dart waiting to be gunned. "If you stop being _such_ a contumelious cretin."

Huh.

"If I stop being such a what?"

"A contumelious cretin."

There was an intense moment of silence as the sunlight slowly crawled up to hit their feet and slowly up the rest of their bodies, the warm beams of bright orange and yellowish-white bringing the feel of the morning to refresh the coldness on their night-drenched skin. Natalie released a contented sigh, completely relishing the peaceful moment.

Then he bravely voiced out his one ultimate concern.

"Say _what?_ "

Facepalm.

"I _said_ ," she all but hissed out, frustrated that her temporary moment of peace was destroyed by this illiterate peasant, "you're a contumelious _cretin_."

Tick…

 _Tock._

"Ah, that," Dan said, nodding, as the light of understanding visibly dawned on him. "Yeah, I know, right? I'm actually thinking of buttered lobster for breakfast—or maybe...maybe I could ask Nellie to cook us some crabs."

Facepalm number two.

"Not _crustaceous_ , you foolish buffoon!" she fumed. "I said contumelious! Now let me hear you say it—say _contumelious!_ Come now! Say contumelious!"

"Carteshoomelious."

"CONTUMELIOUS!"

"Gasundheit," Dan said, distractedly, not really paying that much of his attention anymore.

Natalie gave up, throwing her hands in the air exasperatedly as she rolled her eyes with a degrading _ugh_. Since explaining the meaning of the Word of the Day would be a difficult job that would probably take up the rest of the day's hours, _especially_ when dealing with _Daniel_ , she settled with the single most intelligent word she could ever come up with that could actually match his estimated intelligence quotient to put an end to this pointless conversation:

"Oy."

But Dan's eyes were darting back and forth, as if he wasn't really into their lovely, quaint little chat in the first place. He was taking into careful scrutiny their current surrounding, completely ignoring Natalie. He narrowed his eyes, flags raised up in alarm. He thought he heard something fishy…

Natalie, however, took his silence as miscomprehension, frustration apparent in the exhausted tone of voice she used that sounded a little like why-am-I-cursed-with-family-members-possessing-slow-processing-brains?

"Ugh. That's just what I would expect from a peasant like—"

But she was forced to stop speaking, bafflement completely taking over her as she just stared, wide-eyed, at the hand that was now put onto her mouth in an attempt to silence her.

"Hey, wait," Dan was saying, absolutely oblivious of the befuddlement that he caused upon the shocked Natalie, who was eternally grateful for having an olive skin tone in order to minimalize the effects of that prickly thing called _blushing_. Emotions were such a fickle thing, she thought, as sparks seemed to burst like fireworks from inside of her as she relished in that insignificant little touch, Dan's hand on her mouth with the purpose of silencing her. She was torn between two choices: should she be angry (because, how DARE he!) or should she be flustered (because, how dare he STILL!)? She attempted a glare at Dan to tell him to get his hand off, but the male was too intent on observing his surroundings, his eyes narrowing, edge of lip twitching, to even notice her own hormonal dilemma. Not even her own—

Then she stopped at mid-ramble.

Wait.

 _Hormonal?_

But to distract her from further thoughts regarding such an uncouth matter, Dan said, suspicion in his voice, "Hey…do you—"

"I do not _like_ to be interrupted." Natalie had thankfully broken of out her trance and therefore _finally_ gained the muscular ability to yank Dan's hand off of her mouth. (It was only then that she realized that she was even _petrified_ in the first place—frozen still, and, because of—of what? Of his filthy _touch?_ ) "And don't you tell me to _wait_. You are not my superior that I have to follow every single bloody time."

" _Geez_ , Natalie." It was Dan's turn to roll his eyes, as it was mostly Natalie who did the prominent job of eye-rolling. "I was just gonna ask you, do you hear that?"

That gave Natalie a reason to actually listen to him, for once. "Hear what? I don't hear…no, no, wait, I hear it." The sound was distant, far-off, but slowly, surely, getting a bit…louder and louder. "What's that?"

The two sat in the silence, the silence that was filled up by nothing but that strange sound. They're minds tried to wrap themselves at to what that ambiguous noise really was, but as it got louder, and louder, and most audibly _nearer_ —

Dan's eyes brightened. He practically shot up out of his imaginary seat.

"Hey, wait!" he said, excitedly. "...is that the sound of a—"

 _Rawf, rawf, rawf!_

There was a flash of brown, and literally just a flash; the thing seemed even faster than greased lightning as it practically _tackled_ its one and only target: Natalie Hollingsworth Kabra. It flashed past Dan, who was staring wide-eyed, in a state of shock, saying, "What the—"

 _"Argh!"_ Natalie screamed as her back hit the ground, shrieking with a variety of colourful words as she frantically shielded her face from the wet tongue that insisted on getting slobber all over her pretty face. "Get th—the filthy _animal_ —OFF of me!"

Dan eventually got over his state of shock, and actually felt the beginnings of a laugh creep into his lips as he stared at the manic scene playing out before him, grinning like he was a king and they were the entertainment. He let the laugh out, eventually, standing up to slap onto his knee and point a finger onto the pitiful victim of the merciless dog attack, all the while hooting like mad. He couldn't believe this. Natalie Kabra, taken down by a dog! Score one for doggie!

Natalie? Zeroooo like a _looooo-ser!_

How he liked the sound of _that!_

"Is this—is this for _real?_ "

"No, you FOOL!" she shot back, hotly, with the random dog that came out of nowhere furiously licking her face even as she tried to push the slobbering animal away. "The hysteric _screaming_ is only a figment of your imagination!"

The implied sarcasm was barely even acknowledged as Dan just kept on laughing.

"HA! That dog really loves you, like, _hell!_ "

Natalie snapped. "What did you say?"

"Sorry. Pardon the language."

"No, you idiot! Did you say, a _dog?_ " It was only then that she seemed to realize the species of the creature, as she had been too busy trying to get the slobber away from her precious Prada. But now that she took a closer inspection, pausing for just a second from her hysteric screaming to actually _open_ her eyes and observe before engaging in violence, she let a small gasp escape her lips. The sight before her, a happy, smiling puppy with big, round brown eyes, wagging a pink, braided tail playfully from its behind as it cocked its head to the side cheerily—it was a sight she had not seen for _years_. She came upon a realization that caused both feelings of grief from the past, and hope for the future—arising like smoke from the deepest cave in her chest to give a clear image of more confusion. She wasn't sure which of the two, grief or hope, she should let infiltrate into her.

"Th-that's a..." she stammered, pointing at the dog with a trembling finger, helpless. "A…h-homing…p-p-poodle?"

It made no sense.

 _Mum?_

No. Impossible. It can't be her Mum—it can't be Isabel. But, then if it wasn't, if it _wasn't_ her mother who had sent this poodle, then who—

Her eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on her. She then scrambled out of the floor, and, as if on cue, that one person whom she thought it was appeared out of nowhere.

Natalie's features visibly brightened, just like the sun, as she let a gasp escape from her lips. She couldn't believe her eyes, but there they were—Amy and Ian were running for them, relief evident in their exhausted faces as their burdens lifted from their shoulders. The sight was almost too freeing for Natalie.

 _Mum may not be here anymore to retrieve me whenever I get lost_ , she thought, eyes catching a reflective sheen _._ But with every loss…

She took a look at Ian, who was, instead of her Mum, the one running to get her.

…comes a new gain.

She thought that her eyes could just well up in tears at the thought of this. She eventually decided to ignore the grief of the past and look at the hope of the future, the future that she knew she would take with none other than her brother—whom she was equally despicable with, yes, but who cares?

 _No_ , she thought, running towards him, _no one does!_

"Ian!" cried Natalie.

"Amy!" said Dan, who did the same.

"Dan!" beamed Amy.

"Natalie!" exclaimed Ian.

"Hey, the poodle feels left out," said Dan.

Ian immediately came up to his sister, the expressive worry onto his face making him look like he'd aged a decade. "Dan didn't hurt you, did he?" he inquired his little sister. "He didn't bite you or anything? No wounds, no claw marks, or _fang_ marks, shall I say, not even a scratch?" Ian checked Natalie's neck just to make sure there wasn't anything lurking over there.

"Just so you know, I hear every word you're saying."

Natalie scoffed at Dan's reaction as she looked past her inspecting brother's shoulder. "You can't blame my brother. You _are_ an animal."

"Says the one who's an actual _snake_."

Amy sent her brother a look. "Dan…"

" _Sorry."_ But the superior grin on his face did not show that he was sorry, at all.

But then Dan abruptly ducks to avoid a hurled rock. Natalie's shrill voice dominated the air immediately afterwards.

"You despicable _dog!_ "

It was Ian's turn to become reprimanding. "Natalie…"

 _"_ My _sincerest_ apologies _."_ Natalie fluttered her eyelashes coyly at Ian, not sincere about her apology at all.

Dan rolled his eyes at this. The Kabra siblings were just too equally despicable he thought he'd just thrown up a little in his mouth. He turned to the two newcomers. "How did you find us?"

Amy was the one who stepped forward to provide an immediate explanation. "Ian here insisted we use the homing poodles. Yes, there are more than just Lily." She gestured at the lone homing poodle sitting obediently on the ground with a bright twinkle in its eyes. "We rented them from an expensive pet shop, and we made them follow Natalie's unmistakable perfume scent. Vanilla?"

Natalie blinked at the sudden inquiry when she realized that Amy was actually questioning her about her perfume. But then she got over it, a smile slowly gracing her lips. _Hmm._ This might actually be the beginning of a new friendship between her and Amy, if they just continued talking about her perfume for the rest of the day.

"No, not vanilla, Amy, lovely." It made Natalie feel a little glad that someone was interested in even getting to know about her likes and preferences. "It's Lavender Flurry Charm, a favorite of mine from Monique Lhuilier's collection."

"Right," Amy said. "So the dogs sniffed your Lavender Flurry Charm and we used them to locate you. Ian said they were the perfect tracking devices ever—I say they were the most expensive dogs ever. And, yes, Ian, okay, you win. I admit, they ARE effective. Happy now?"

"Yes," Ian said to Amy, lifting his chin just a little bit higher like a proud emperor who'd just seized a new territory. A smirk had the gall to creep on those lips of his. "And since I have won our wager, you would have to comply with whatever I have to tell you to do, as we have agreed."

"Wager?" Dan's eyes bulged out of his sockets at Amy so exaggeratedly that Natalie feared they would just fall out and bounce onto the ground like a pair of baseballs. "You had a bet with the _Cobra?!_ "

"Hey!" Amy countered defensively at her brother. "I wouldn't be making a bet with him in the first place if _you_ didn't get yourselves lost out here in the first place! So basically it's _your_ fault!"

Dan averted his gaze to Ian, and the transformation of initial shock to murderous maleficence could be witnessed right then and there. "If I see my sister _massaging_ your feet, or _fanning_ you with plucked peacock train feathers, or—or—or feeding you _grapes_ , Cobra, I could just swear—"

"Oooh. That's actually a _swell_ idea." Natalie gleefully clapped her hands like a little child, then clutched the sleeve onto her brother's arm as she hopefully looked up at him. "What do you say, brother dear?

"I agree. I will take your suggestion into consideration, Daniel—but that would be after we know the bottom of this situation. Enough with the pleasantries." Ian took hold of Natalie's hand and removed it from his arm, looking at her intently in the eyes before shifting his gaze back to Dan, reprimanding, almost like a real older brother figure to both the younger teens.

"Amy and I want to know what you two were doing out here together," he continued, authoritatively. "I— _we_ want to know what on this bloody Earth you were doing, prancing around like lost, wild horses—you had both of us _worried_ , you naughty midgets." Ian lightly knocked a scolding fist onto the back of Natalie's head for good measure, to which the girl vehemently replied with a 'Not in front of people, Ian, _please!_ ' when Dan laughed aloud. Ian merely continued his Speech of Admonishment.

"Now. Both of you. Answers, please."

Dan and Natalie looked at each other warily. How they got lost in this forest would be another story to be told in another time.

But, really, they'd rather not talk about it.

* * *

 **;)**

 **Yours truly in the name of Natan (and Amian),  
Rival Argentica **


End file.
